


you absolute bagel

by lecornergirl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (it's only a little bit though), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, a little bit of swearing, so if you're not cool with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecornergirl/pseuds/lecornergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke have the most glorious potty mouths (okay, so mainly they’re terms of endearment), but it’s Octavia’s daughter’s fourth birthday party and they’ve been warned to keep it clean or else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you absolute bagel

Bellamy and Clarke have the most glorious potty mouths (okay, so mainly they’re terms of endearment), but it’s Octavia’s daughter’s fourth birthday party and they’ve been warned to keep it clean _or else_.

Bellamy and Clarke. They’re just friends (“I swear to God, O, if something changes you’ll be the first to know.” His sister smirked. “So you’re expecting something to change, then?” He looked away so she couldn’t see it written all over his face.), but more often than not they’re referred to as a single entity. Especially now that Clarke’s moved into Bellamy’s spare room, once they realized they spent most nights in the same apartment anyway. It was a purely financial decision.

No one believes them when they say they’re not sleeping together, honest to God.

“Yeah, right,” Octavia said at their very impromptu housewarming affair.

“Shut up, dickweed,” Bellamy said. Clarke smirked.

 

It’s Octavia’s daughter’s fourth birthday party, and they are late.

“This is your fault, shitweasel,” Clarke mutters as they throw themselves into Bellamy’s battered old Volvo. “You could have just believed me when I told you you’re pretty enough half an hour ago.”

“Perfection takes time, Princess,” he smirks, pretending not to see Clarke’s gaze linger on him a little too long. “Besides, you’re the one who almost forgot to wrap the gift, so I mean…”

“Speaking of the gift,” Clarke says, “what the everloving fuck is it actually meant to be?”

“I have no clue,” Bellamy confesses. “O said Anna was asking for one, so I bought it.”

 

They pull up in front of Octavia and Lincoln’s house twenty minutes after the party is supposed to start. Octavia runs out, looking mildly frazzled, and they expect her to complain. Instead, she says, “thank fuck you’re here. I need both of you in the kitchen, now.”

Clarke almost points out that Octavia was the one who decided no one was allowed to swear in her house so Anna wouldn’t be surrounded by bad influences, but Bellamy puts his hand on hers. Just in time, she sees what he sees: Octavia is just stressed enough that pushing her any further would count as Definitely Not Helping. “Lead the way, O,” he says, and Clarke squeezes his hand gratefully.

 

Bellamy has never seen this many four-year-olds in one place. They’re everywhere: playing tag in the living room, almost knocking over a vase in the hall (he catches it just in time; Clarke snorts when he whispers “ninja catch” triumphantly to no one but her.), doing what looks like an interpretive dance around Lincoln in the backyard, and – this is where Octavia leads them – surrounded by icing in the kitchen.

They shoot her a questioning look.

“You were supposed to be here to watch the kids while I finished the cake,” she says defensively. “Have you ever tried telling fifteen four-year-olds that a certain room is off-limits?”

“Okay,” Bellamy says, “it’s okay. Here, you take the kids and Clarke and I will finish the cake, okay?”

His sister nods, turning to the three kids remaining in the kitchen. Pre-empting whatever she’s going to say, they sit down on the floor as if daring her to ask them to leave. Anna is in the middle, and at four years old she looks so much like her mother did at the same age that for a second Bellamy can’t breathe.

Clarke crouches down in front of the children. “Do you guys want to help Bellamy and me with the cake?” she asks, and they nod, the biggest nods Bellamy has ever seen.

Octavia shrugs. “Hey, that works too,” she says as she leaves the kitchen to find the rest of the children.

 

Hands on her hips, Clarke surveys the abandoned, half-decorated birthday cake on the counter.

“All right, birthday girl –” she turns to Anna “– what’s it going to be?”

Anna looks like she’s deep in thought for the briefest of moments before announcing that her cake is going to be bright orange. Clarke glances at the bowl of pink icing on the counter, and when she looks back at Anna the four-year-old’s expression is clear: don’t even think about it.

“Okay then,” Clarke says. “Bellamy, I’m going to need yellow food dye.”

“Get it yourself, you –” he stops when he sees Clarke glaring at him. “You absolute bagel.”

Her face scrunches up as she tries to hold in her laughter, but she says nothing. “Okay, so where is it?”

“How should I know?”

“Helpful, thanks.”

They find the food dye eventually, and the icing is turned to a shade of orange deemed acceptable by the birthday girl.

“Here comes the fun part,” Clarke says. She’s just about to say something about finding chairs for the kids to stand on when she catches Bellamy’s eye, and he’s already got three chairs lined up.

“Up you go,” he says as he lifts them onto the chairs, Anna in the middle, directly in front of her cake. Before handing them the icing, Clarke ties an apron around each child, braids Anna’s hair haphazardly out of the way. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Bellamy doing the same for the girl on Anna’s left. Wordlessly, she hands him a hair tie before he can ask for it.

She ignores the look he gives her and how it makes her stomach feel like she’s fifteen again, fifteen with her first crush on the captain of her school’s basketball team. She was beautiful, that much Clarke knows, but she can barely remember her name. For the past few years Bellamy has taken up too much space in her life for her to think about things like the name of her first crush.

So she ignores the look Bellamy gives her and turns her attention to the boy on Anna’s left, rolling up his sleeves in hopes they’d be spared.

“All right, have at it,” he says.

“Just a second, you incredible turnip,” Clarke cuts in. She hands out three spoons, and takes a step back. “Okay, there you go.”

Bellamy moves to stand next to her, and they survey the scene like proud parents. “Turnip?” he asks in a whisper, and she can hear the grin in his voice.

“Bagel,” she replies. He puts an arm around her and she leans into him, still ignoring the ghost of her fifteen-year-old self. They’re still standing like that when Octavia comes into the kitchen a few minutes later. She shoots Bellamy a look, one Clarke can’t read, but she can feel Bellamy distance himself from her just a little, as if to prove a point.

Her side feels cold where they’re no longer touching.

 

The cake is a huge hit. Apparently you don’t see orange birthday cakes at every party.

They help Octavia and Lincoln clean up once all the kids have left, and when she walks them to the door Octavia thanks them once more, looking so sincere it causes pangs in Clarke’s chest, although she can’t quite identify them until she realizes that in that moment Octavia looks _just like Bellamy_.

Maybe it’s time to stop ignoring.

They drive home silently.

“So,” Clarke says as she’s closing the front door. “I love you. So that’s a thing.”

And if she didn’t before, the look on Bellamy’s face when he turned to her would have made her anyway.

He grins down at her. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” He takes her face in his hands, and their first kiss is slow, languorous, perfect. (Actually, it’s not their first kiss, but _that one time_ they were both drunk and both think the other doesn’t remember.)

“I think I do, you absolute bagel” she says against his lips, and his smile gets wider still. She didn’t know that was possible.

 

He makes her take an obnoxious kissing selfie with him, and texts it to Octavia with the caption “told you you’d be the first to know.”

**Author's Note:**

> in my mind there was a lot more of the non-swearing swearing, but turns out it didn't actually work with the flow, so this happened instead.


End file.
